


Floor It

by empress_ofbloodshed



Series: elorcan mafia au [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27499897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empress_ofbloodshed/pseuds/empress_ofbloodshed
Summary: I very much like the idea of the Cadre (mainly Lorcan) as private security and Elide as a scary badass mafia boss so shushWarnings: language, gunshots, violence, death
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre, Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard
Series: elorcan mafia au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009701
Kudos: 7





	Floor It

Lorcan groaned as the banging on his front door only increased in intensity the more he ignored it. Stomping through his apartment, he yanked the door open to see Fenrys holding a six-pack of beer and grinning.

“Lorcan!” the dark-skinned blonde cheered, hugging him. Lorcan hated hugs. “Oh, yea, Ro told me he’s got a job for you if you’re interested. He said to call him. Gods, it feels like I haven’t seen you in years even though it’s been what? Two months? Man you’re missing out on not a fuckin’ lot.”

Picking up the bags full of his own groceries from the hallway, Lorcan tuned the youngest member of the Cadre out. The Cadre was a private security firm whose clients were more often than not members of gangs.

One day something went wrong and his client was ambushed and shot on the spot. Lorcan got off easy with a shot to the abdomen that knocked him out and left him in the hospital for weeks. Thankfully the bullet missed all his vital organs. Since then he had been cooped up in his apartment so he could heal, threatened heavily by both Gavriel and Rowan if he tried to return to work before he was fully healed. Now that his doctor had cleared him, he was ready to get back to work.

A can of beer hissed as it was opened and Lorcan sighed. Fenrys lounged on his couch, flipping through the channels on his flatscreen.

“Boyo, get the fuck out of my apartment,” Lorcan growled. He didn’t have the patience to deal with Fenrys today. “Now. Before I throw your ass off the balcony.”

Fenrys groaned and pouted but got off the couch and slunk to the door, taking his open beer with him. The lock clicked into place and Lorcan smiled. Finally, he was alone again. Although he really should call Rowan and ask about that job he had.

* * *

Slipping from the sleek cherry-red seven speed manual Porsche GT4 she bought last week, Elide cut the line to Realm. The bouncer nodded to her and let her through, silencing those complaining in line with a single look.

Manon sidled up to her as she passed through the dance floor and headed for the upper VIP level. Her enforcer’s white hair reflected every color from the lights, so different compared to the black leather of her clothing.

“Well?” Elide asked once she sat on one of the plush couches with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “How are things?”

Manon glowered. “For starters, your bodyguard up and quit. I’m trying to find another but good ones are hard to find. Whitethorn said he might have one. Realm is doing well, obviously. The latest shipment arrived on time without a single hitch. And the offshore accounts are filling up quite nicely.”

“Excellent.” Just as she was about to ask about Aelin’s restaurant, her phone started to ring. She waved Manon off to glare at the screen, not recognizing the number. “Hello? Who is this?”

 _Shit. I’m looking for Elide Lochan._ The man’s voice was deep.

“This is she.”

A car door slammed. _Rowan said you have a job for me? I’m Lorcan Salvaterre, I work for the Cadre._

 _Well damn,_ Elide thought to herself. _Thank the gods._ “Well, Mr. Salvaterre, it just so happens I need a new bodyguard. Are you up for the job?”

_Yes, ma’am._

“I’ll text you an address. Meet me there tomorrow morning at nine. Do not be late.” Then she hung up.

Suddenly tired, Elide stood and waved good-night to Manon and Asterin. Vesta waited for her by the car with her arms crossed, a cigarette held between her teeth.

Anneith and Hellas screamed the second Elide unlocked the door to her very expensive penthouse apartment, begging for food even though they were fed a few hours ago. She loved her cats dearly, but they really could be annoying. Kicking off her heels, she poured herself a glass of red wine and flopped onto the couch, queuing up an episode of _Criminal Minds_ to watch mindlessly. Hellas curled up on top of the blanket covering Elide’s feet, Anneith content to nap on the armrest.

* * *

Lorcan chewed the inside of his cheek, cursing the gods for choosing today of all days to pour down rain. The address she sent him was a little coffee house in the heart of Orynth. Parking his Ford Bronco he saved from the scrapyard and fixed himself, he beelined for the front door of the Staghorn, trying to keep his hair as dry as possible.

Even pulled up in a semi-formal ponytail, dark strands still escaped and clung to his skin. Shuffling forward on the floor mat, Lorcan lowered his hood and headed for the counter.

Ringing the tinny service bell, the last woman he wanted to see hurried out of the back, a bowl of freshly-baked muffins in her hands.

“Galathynius,” he grumbled.

“Salvaterre,” she snipped right back. “What do you want?”

“Coffee for here. Black with two sugars. And toss in one of those muffins, if you would be so kind.”

Aelin took the cash from his hand a little too roughly, glaring at him as she handed him the warm muffin and his change. Lorcan didn’t want to piss Rowan’s girlfriend off even more, so he stuffed a five in the tip jar and went to sit down at a table by the windows. A few minutes later, Aelin set down a cup of steaming coffee in front of him with an irritated huff.

Checking his phone, Lorcan saw he had five minutes to spare. He had heard of Lochan Industries, funding everything from Aelin’s coffee house to illegal underground drag-racing rings. And they dealt coke on the side at Realm. He had been into Realm once or twice with a client but never liked it. Too many people and too much noise for his liking.

Sipping his coffee, he nearly spewed it across the table. That bitch dumped an entire fucking cup of sugar in his coffee. Aelin flipped him off from behind the counter with a smirk. And to think he tipped her more than what his drink cost, too.

Before he could harass Aelin about it, the bell on the door jangled and a woman walked in, folding her umbrella up and sticking it in the vase by the door. She was short, but carried herself like she was much taller. That must be the infamous Elide Lochan.

She spotted him, heading for the table. Lorcan stood to shake her hand, his massive hand dwarfing hers. “Elide Lochan, yes?”

Elide nodded, sitting down. “So you must be Lorcan Salvaterre. Rowan said very good things about you. Aelin on the other hand, not so much.” Her chuckle was light and he relaxed into his chair.

As her onyx gase dragged up and down his body, Lorcan felt severely underdressed in his hoodie, jeans, and tactical boots, even though she was dressed similarly.

“You’ll do,” she announced after a too-long silence. “Now, tell me about yourself. I want to know who exactly is going to be in charge of protecting me.”

* * *

As Lorcan punched the man so hard she heard his jaw dislocate, Elide picked at her fresh manicure. The man sobbed, begging Elide for mercy. Lorcan’s eyes met hers and she nodded. He told her all she needed to know. Then the man’s cries turned into screams before they stopped abruptly with a silenced gunshot.

Lorcan tucked his gun back into his waistband, holding Elide’s coat so she could easily slip into it before following her to the car. On the drive back to her apartment, Elide couldn’t help but stare at the blood splattered across his jaw and how white his knuckles were as he clenched the steering wheel.

A muscle in his jaw feathered before he yanked the steering wheel to the right, slamming on the brakes.

“Fuck, El,” he snarled. “I was hired to be your bodyguard, not your attack dog.” His onyx eyes blazed with fury, his normally tied back hair loose and messy. Elide couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive.

“Fine,” she spat. “You can quit after the gala tomorrow night.”

“Great,” he snapped.

Elide echoed him, some of the venom fading from her voice. Two years with Lorcan by her side and she considered him a friend, if not one of her most trusted people.

The rest of the drive back was quiet, seeing as Lorcan refused to turn the radio on. And every time she tried to, he slapped her hand away.

Lorcan slammed the door to the spare bedroom shut and she heard the shower run shortly afterward. Hellas mewed and scratched at the door, wanting to be let in. Her little gremlin had taken to Lorcan the moment he walked through her front door while Anneith preferred Elide.

* * *

Standing in front of the mirror, Elide admired the way her gown shimmered as she turned. The price had been more than she was willing to pay, but Aelin forced her into buying it. And she was glad she did. Silver flowers were hand-stitched into the inky fabric, the gown itself clinging to her every curve. The back was low enough to display her elaborate wyvern tattoo while the neckline dipped low but now low enough to cause a scandal. Thin silver necklaces encircled her neck, a silver arm cuff adorning her left bicep. The little bit of body glitter she rubbed on her shoulders and chest made her collarbones glimmer.

Elide felt like she had a court to rule.

But she had a sickening feeling in her stomach that the man who she wanted to admire her couldn’t stand to look at her.

The gala was actually hosted by Dorian Havilliard, a close friend of Aelin’s and an on-off boyfriend of Manon’s, but Elide was just an honored guest. For once, she was glad to be out of the spotlight.

Popping her lips to make sure her blood-red lipstick was even, Elide grabbed her clutch and headed for the door. Before she went in to shower and shave, Lorcan had been lounging on the couch with Hellas in his lap. Now he was on the phone with his back to her, his black hair loose. The suit did wonders for his body, clinging to his ass so tightly Elide feared the moment he bent down the seams would split. She admired the view while she could, leaning against the marble countertop of her kitchen island.

Lorcan turned around, ending his phone call and shoving his phone into his pocket. His eyes widened the smallest bit as he took her in. Shaking his head, he growled and pulled his hair up into a messy ponytail. “Let’s go.” His tone of voice left no room for interpretation. It was a command.

“You looked nice with your hair down,” she said once they were in her Porsche. It was a genuine compliment and she truly meant it, seeing at tonight would be his last night working for her.

“Thanks,” he huffed. “You look … nice.”

Elide shook her head with a faint smile, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. “I’ll take what I can get.”

As soon as he opened the door for her, the cameras began flashing. Reporters yelled her name, asking who she was wearing and who her boyfriend was. Lorcan snarled at them, yanking Elide into the building.

“I hate fucking reporters.” His hands were balled into fists, like he wanted to punch them. “And I’m _NOT_ your boyfriend. Gods.”

Slipping her arm through his, Elide beamed up at him. “Come on, Salvaterre. Let’s go face the wolves.” He grumbled unhappily but walked at her side, shortening his strides so she didn’t have to run to keep up with him.

A string quartet played classical music on a small stage as women in gowns every color of the rainbow milled around the room with their male or female companions. Dorian pushed through the crowd dragging Aelin and Manon behind him. He hugged Elide tightly, talking rapidly about how things were going. Snatching two flutes off the tray of a passing waiter, he handed one to Elide and the other to Lorcan. Then he flitted off to greet the other guests, leaving Manon and Aelin with Elide.

They chatted for a while, Elide telling Lorcan to go find Rowan and the rest of the Cadre and enjoy his night. Both her friends glared at her bodyguard’s retreating figure.

Elide slipped away a while later, joining a man she barely knew on the dance floor. His hands were a smidge too tight and clammy, his breath laced with alcohol. She was saved by death itself.

“May I have this dance?” Lorcan asked, interrupting the man and shooing him away. Elide was never more pleased than in that moment to see her grumpy bodyguard. “I’m sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he murmured.

Elide gasped. “Did Lorcan Salvaterre just apologize? Hold on a second, let me get my phone out and then start from the top.”

“Shut up,” he growled, a smile tugging at his lips.

Never had Elide wanted to kiss him any more than in that moment. She saw him lick his lips, his eyes flicking down to hers. Leaning up on her toes, she looped her arms around his neck.

“El, Iー” Shots rang out and then the screaming started. “GET DOWN!” Lorcan roared, shoving Elide to the ground. Thankfully, the nearby table was almost cleared of dishes. Lorcan knocked it onto its side, crouching behind it. Pulling the gun from his waistband, he clicked the safety off. Kissing Elide’s forehead, he whispered, “Whatever happens, don’t move. I’ll be back.”

Then he slipped away, shots firing in his wake.

* * *

Lorcan emptied the clip of his Beretta too quickly. Masked men fell to the ground, pools of blood making the floor slippery. Tucking his gun back into his waistbandーhe loved it too much to just abandon itーhe scooped one up from the ground and checked the bullets. Fifteen.

Just for good measure, he grabbed one of the semi-automatic rifles and slung it over his shoulder, running back to Elide. He was ten yards away when the bullet tore through his right shoulder. Thank the gods he was left-handed. Whipping around, he saw Fenrys with a gun to the man’s head, blood and brains flying as he pulled the trigger.

“Elide,” he panted. Her onyx eyes flared wide when she saw the blood staining his suit jacket and white dress shirt. He shook his head. “Not mine. Get up. We need to leave.”

She ran for the doors to the balcony and he followed on her heels.

It was only a ten foot drop to the ground below so Lorcan went first, hissing in pain as he landed. Elide landed in a crouch next to him, leading him around the building back to where her GT4 was parked. They sprinted for her sports car, Elide hopping in the driver’s seat and swearing as she had to adjust the seat. Thankfully, the valet left the keys in the ignition.

The tires spun for a second before they shot forward, Lorcan swearing as he balled up his suit jacket and pressed it into his shoulder.

“You told me the blood wasn’t yours,” Elide snapped, glancing over at him before quickly returning her eyes to the road.

“Well, I fucking lied,” Lorcan snarled. Bullets whizzed past the car, her taillights shattering. “Fucking Hels, Elide. Floor it!”

“Don’t fucking tell me how to drive when there are men shooting at us!” she yelled, shifting gears and stepping on the gas.

Lorcan was slammed back into the seat as the hand on the speedometer shot up over 125. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he would be pretty damn impressed at how she weaved through the lanes of traffic and drifted around street corners. An hour and a half later, she pulled up to a gate in the mountains, putting in a four-digit code before they opened with a squeal.

“Where are we?” he groaned, falling into Elide when she tried to help him out of the car.

“A safe house. No one knows where it is but me.” She grunted as she half-dragged him into the house. “And now you.”

He didn’t remember much else, his vision blurring before he collapsed to the ground and everything went dark.

Lorcan blinked at the sunlight, moving to hold up his hand against the brightness when he saw it was wrapped in a makeshift sling. His shoulder ached and he was shirtless. Elide slept soundly with her head on his chest, dressed in an old hoodie from Orynth University and a pair of shorts. She yawned, blinking sleepily up at him.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. His chest rumbled underneath her and Elide rubbed her eyes, mumbling a very sleepy ‘morning to him.

She crawled out of bed and returned with coffee a few minutes later, handing him a mug after she helped him sit upright. Sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, she watched him.

“You’re staring, Lochan.” Lorcan cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. She harumphed, crossing her arms. “You know, for a gang boss you’re quite cute.”

Elide rolled her eyes. “Cute, huh?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the blush on her cheeks.

“How’s your shoulder?” she asked, taking a sip from her mug.

Lorcan shrugged, even though his face screwed up in pain. “Could be better. Thank you though. Do you have some sort of first aid training?”

“Yeah, actually. Before my uncle dragged me into the family business, I was studying at OU to be an emergency room doctor. Removing bullets wasn’t exactly part of the curriculum. You should still see a real doctor once we get back.”

Lorcan waved his good hand through the air. “Yeah yeah. I know the drill.”

Elide stood, taking their empty mugs back to the kitchen. Lorcan followed, having nothing better to do. It was quite a cozy little cabin. As he wandered, he saw pictures of Elide as a child on the shoulders of what he guessed was her father and family portraits. He barely noticed Elide come stand at his side, her head barely meeting his chest.

Padding to the bathroom, Lorcan stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, he looked like shit, and he smelled like a dumpster. Gagging at the smell, he turned around to pull back the shower curtain. Gods, he was way too tall for her shower. At least there was shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a bar of soap. Fluffy grey towels hung from a rack near the shower.

Fighting with his sling, he finally managed to get it off. Then he peeled back the blood-stained gauze, seeing his skin red and angry around the bullet wound.

Lorcan had to bite back his scream as hot water sprayed directly on his shoulder, his head swimming in pain. It only got worse as shampoo suds ran into it as he washed his hair. Finally, he was clean. He smelled like cedar and her hair products, but it was far preferable to earlier. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went looking for his boss.

* * *

Elide was quite happy in her blanket burrito on the back porch. Novel in hand, she dozed off a few pages in.

Then she awoke with a shriek as Lorcan tapped her shoulder. Lorcan nearly dropped his towel, scrambling to keep it wrapped around him. He failed, his good hand holding it in place in front of his cock.

“Fucking Hels, Lorcan. You scared me,” Elide heaved, a hand over her heart as she tried to calm its racing. She craned her head to look, curiosity getting the better of her. “Annnnd your ass it out.”

He grimaced. “Shut your mouth. I need your help. And clothing.”

Grumbling, Elide unburritoed herself and headed back inside, pulling a large duffel bag from under her bed. She had already unpacked hers last night while he was passed out, her clothing neatly organized in drawers. Tossing it onto the bed, she pulled out a pair of dark green joggers, black boxer briefs, a white tee and a black zip-up hoodie.

Then she triedーand failedーnot to stare at his ass on his way back to the bathroom as she trailed him. A few minutes later he opened the door, still shirtless.

Not that she was complaining.

“Can you rebandage my shoulder? Please?” he asked.

Elide nodded, humming as she pulled medical supplies from the bathroom drawers. “Go sit out on the deck. I’ll be out in a minute.” She heard him walk away, his footsteps light for being so godsdamned tall.

To reach his shoulder, she was forced to straddle him. His good hand settled on her waist, squeezing gently. All she could focus on was how good he smelled. And how solid his body was underneath hers.

Oh gods, she was well and truly fucked.

Her stoic bodyguard’s face turned to stone the second her fingers brushed his skin, the only sign of his pain the way his muscles tensed.

“All done,” she chirped, sliding off his lap. She helped him into his zip-up hoodie, returning the medical supplies to the bathroom.

She unplugged both of their phones on the way back to the deck, connecting hers to the wifi. The second it connected, her phone buzzed non-stop with frantic texts from Manon, Aelin, and Rowan asking where she was and was she hurt and was Lorcan with her. She replied to all three with the same message:

_I’m safe and unharmed. Lorcan was shot, but he’s alive and healing. We’re at a safe house. We’ll be back at the end of the week. Keep me updated._

Rowan liked the message. Aelin told her if Lorcan didn’t come back alive she wouldn’t complain. Manon left her on read.

Seeing as it was only Tuesday and she said they would be back at the end of the week, Elide was now stuck in the same tiny cabin as her unfairly attractive bodyguard until Saturday morning. She could think of quite a few ways to pass the time but the rational side of her brain kicked in and she decided against it. He was injured. That would be just cruel and unfair.


End file.
